December
by Saulie
Summary: Light studied his own reflection in a shiny red ball, dangling from a branch.


The miniature Christmas tree, its green plastic decked out in tinsel and iridescent globes, looked out of place among the stacks of papers and computer screens. Light usually looked at the documents. Printouts of statistics. Records. Reports. Sketchy written notes and diagrams recognizable as L's.

But he was peering at the lone object curiously.

"Are you Christian, Ryuuzaki?"

"No." Ryuuzaki's eyes were fixed on the screen as he typed something Light couldn't see. "I am not."

"Then why—"

"Watari is." A shrug.

"Ah."

The detective kept typing.

Light studied his own reflection in a shiny red ball, dangling from a branch. It looked odd and shadowy and distorted.

"Did you celebrate Christmas in England?"

There was a pause in the clacking sounds of the keyboard. "Yes." –and it resumed again.

Light sighed.

He stretched, and the chain did, too, with a dissonant little series of _clanks _and _clings _that might've sounded like sleigh-bells or some similar nonsense. He didn't celebrate Christmas, himself, but the picture of it was in a lot of American films. It was the holiday season…there were a lot of silly things. He preferred to be here. They were attending to something important. Of course, they needed absolute focus. If Kira was to be—

Ryuuzaki shivered. The chain moved slightly. Light glanced up from the notes he'd been absently reviewing. "Are you all right?"

"I am." A gulp of tea (disgustingly saccharine, no doubt). He shivered again as Light stood, coming to look at whatever it was Ryuuzaki was so absorbed in. "Kira's pattern has become so distinct it approaches being obvious. See? If he continues in this way he will become predictable in the eyes of the population, and the possibility exists of some...prediction, publicly, of what his next move is going to be. It makes him seem even less godlike. It's briefly useable."

"Are you sure you want to be telling me this, Ryuuzaki?" There was a touch of rueful laughter in Light's voice. "As a Kira suspect?"

"I trust your discretion, Light-kun."

_…If I/you were Kira, I/you would make sure not let your/my comments influence my/your decisions, and indeed take precautions to the opposite. You/I said that for multiple reasons; you/I knew I/you would consider it. _

When their eyes met Light smiled. "You're generosity itself."

Ryuuzaki might very well have looked amused. It was difficult to tell. "At any rate—"

"Good God," Light interrupted with some exasperation, to the other's blinking surprise, "you're—"

(He'd rested his hand lightly on Ryuuzaki's thin shoulder; the man usually flinched at unexpected physical contact or tensed like someone awaiting an attack, but not today, _still--)_

"—freezing, honestly, why didn't you turn on the heat in here?"

--Ryuuzaki was chewing on his thumb again, holding that unfathomable expression. At last he spun his chair to face Light directly and answered.

"I couldn't figure out how the thermostat worked."

"You _what?" _

"Had some difficulty with the thermostat. It needs to be reprogrammed, I believe."

Incredulous, Light shook his head and looked around for the thermostat, scanning the room. A sliver of outside was visible through a mostly-closed curtain; the sky was pure white from thickening clouds that threatened snow. _That's ridiculous. _"Where is it?"

"There." Ryuuzaki pointed.

Already collected in Light's databank about L was his lack of concern for practicalities, but this was just absurd. "Come on," he said, walking over to the little white box on the wall and pulling Ryuuzaki along behind him, "look, it's—"

He stopped, staring at it. "You just—"

"This button here, do you think that's it?"

"Possibly. It is labeled _heat—"_

"But it is next to this other one, so it could be referring to that."

"Is this time? Day of the week?"

"What day is it?"

"Sunday."

"This—"

"Is either for the heat, or the air conditioner."

"Fifty percent either way, Light-kun."

"Honestly, could you—"

"Ryuuzaki? Light-kun?"

One right after the other: swivel, swivel. Together they looked at Matsuda in the doorway, who seemed puzzled. "Hello. What are—oh, that?"

_'Oh, that'? _

Silently, simultaneously, the two geniuses stepped aside.

Matsuda pressed a few buttons and then waved at them, apparently finished. He still looked a tad perplexed. "You two d—"

"Thank you, Matsuda-san," said Ryuuzaki gravely. "Much appreciated."


End file.
